


Lost Like Stardust

by Ixdigo



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types, Tomsworld - raiiny-skye
Genre: (possibly), Aesthetics, Angst and Humor, Drugs, F/M, Family Feels, Forks, Gen, LLS! CorrupTom is why we can't have nice things, M/M, Memories, Murder Mystery, No Romance, Only the pills, Possible Character Death, Possible Fran Bow References(?), References to Drugs, Slight Comedy??, Tags May Change, This is gonna get dark-, demonic brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ixdigo/pseuds/Ixdigo
Summary: "Whatever they were..They didn't work like some ordinary weed. Not a pile of clustered green leaves or pipes that had the capability to make this person as high as a flying kite nor end up stoned.Maybe it had a specific technical definition, or maybe it didn't, there was no way someone would tell without reaching into the epitome of it themselves, and stay there, whisking away into a mixture of beauty and utter insanity."•• Or you know, my edgy take on the TordTheKiller Story with zero relation to the parody/creepypasta at all- ••





	1. Chapter 1

Night time was falling from the east of the house that lingered around this street. Deep on the inside of it, laid a electronic clock placed on top of the desk. Twelve o'clock sharp, midnight, it read. Footsteps pacing itself downstairs, striding into the open bathroom laced with no suspicion in his expression. He was up and at this again. Everyone had to of been asleep, he checked, double-checked. It was back to square one with him, again. Same routine, same schedule on a Friday.

He was inside the bathroom, clutching his hands on the sink before him as his head was buried downward and not even facing the widened mirror planted before him.  A few white-coded pills laying on the closed toilet seat, he wheezed a little bit as he glanced up at the mirror by now after a straight couple minutes and ran a hand through his caramel-colored hair, trying to remember if he went through the two doses already. 

Unfortunately, coercing a coherent thought process in this moment was when the headache went on and arrived. He cursed at himself as he went through the mild scorching pain, placing the palm of his hand on the front of his forehead and going through the motions of this all over again. However, after a couple of seconds, the pain was sent being divided up. Soon losing himself in the feeling of greener fields, and miscolored pastries, and a song that had him singing with one of the lyrics being "Boardwalk". 

He was soon sent into a chuckling fit, holding himself as he backed up against the wall and steadily slid right down to the floor as he just kept on laughing, and laughing, said laughter gaining louder volume and calming down after his subconscious further got lost into deep imagination and enthusiasm. He didn't even deny that this was right, that this was an amazing feeling that he could just get drawn in over and over again if he could. 

He never minded if somehow, or someway, he had gotten high.

There was no use in complaining about it, how long has he been doing this already? Two months. An entire year, if possible. He kept up this position for a while, it wasn't like anyone else had minded him doing this as well. Others definitely knew that he had an aesthetic drug problem, so luckily he didn't have to sneak around and hide how he was getting as high as one could with heroin. He just disliked doing it when people were around, people that could steadily judge him and realize he wasn't just that random narcissist that is losing his innocent credibility.

However, there was also no questioning how this wonderful feeling of clustered joy could have it's flaws. His momentary jolts of bliss could be amusingly high one day, this was a part of his schedule from already. Recently, those would last for a full on minute and take it's skyrocketing downfall. Perhaps he was growing used to it's vital charm and his mind was now misreading the joy as incompetent and misplacing. For he was now, the drug from the pills steadily wearing off and taking it's dreaded effects that mostly left violent scars on his brain. 

This wasn't like the other times. Every other time he had this under control, or somehow it worked itself out and he wouldn't be freaking self-aware of all downright terrified he was. And how messed up everything else was painfully unraveling around him.

What happened to the butterflies flying around? Some of them dropped dead, the greenish fields drying up around the corners and losing it's pleasant feel. What happened to the song? He couldn't sing it anymore, if not was too disturbed to want to continue the song, especially not with figures representing his "friends" surrounding him with discombobulated faces and distorted tones floating around and telling him how dysfunctional he was. How worst of a friend he was, even Edd's usual judgmental and depressing words were racking up terror in his mind. 

He wished to fight it off, he wanted this all to stop, clutching his eye's shut-tight and refusing to open them was somewhat worsening off the situation as he held himself and shook around in the bathroom. The distressed noises of screeching reverberating off the thin walls.

Someone had managed to hear the tortured whimpering, the sounds of footsteps rushing towards the bathroom had crowded up his ears and after a while, he went silent. The only sound surrounding the thin walls being the sounds of whimpers and incoherence. 

"Tord...?" The voice knocked, obviously sounding off as masculine and too tired to want this to continue any longer. "...Tord...!?" He mumbled off again after standing in amidst of such silence, how he would of loved for the mentioned male to simply open the door and reveal that whatever these growing concerns inside him were for nothing. 

 

The brunette that had managed to notice most of this to step back a little and retract what he was doing. Waking up in the middle of the night and hearing what sounded like pained tears and crying, meaningless to say nothing about this was normal. Although that's what usually this household was, abnormal. He sighed in slight annoyance and closed in to open the door, just a pinch as he peeked in a little. For a few split seconds, he spotted him standing there for a while, before the male did a quick whip around and screamed loudly enough as if he wanted to burst his eardrums. 

 

He felt a couple scrappings on the skin, of course not one caused by a human hand, or even something similar at all. Taking in quickly enough what was going on, it was shaped with sharp edges, four tall ones, modeled like a simple grey fork. The brunette's eye's widened instanteously as he glanced up at the boy with the overcoat. He was being practically attacked by this male head-on, this causing a brawl of wits and strength to take place as for after a while the only screams being heard now were from the brunette himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ; tfw you are too Edd-gy to die.
> 
> ; Okay I probably should stop before I try forgivemE—

Chap 2  
\---

The peak of Saturday had reached faster than one would have anticipated. That one being, the chestnut-haired individual who was resting on the waiting room seats in a freeway, lousy position as a few minutes got miscomprehended into a few hours. This leading him to groan softly and begin to glower at the velvety sky once it peered in through one of the hospital windows. Needless to acknowledge, that was probably the one sane start to a more less sane of a day. 

Going back to the memory that here he was, a few hours earlier spotting one of his best friends scrapped up and scarred across his limbs and a part of his abdomen, anxiety crawling up the fiber of his being and the twisted thought that this was the brunette's own attempt to kill himself. Although this seemed more torturous for a man that would simply desire death, something else had to of been going on. 

The chestnut brunette remained here for rest of the night in the hospital, until the inevitable lack of sleep throughout into the morning caused him to slack over into approximately an hour of rest. Only to have been awakened by a small bout of instinctive measures and momentarily blaming it on the slightly shining sun outside. Within the former, the blue-hoodied male struck up his previous stammering position whilst still worried about Edd's current state without any new word, his internal actions causing him to consider certain things.

Despite this happening, and considering the very few contact options all in the random order for which he himself created, he didn't know what use would coerce out of calling Matthew, of all people. People who hung around the small gang of four, or due to recent events, three would have known that two of the men involved didn't have a good track record of civil disagreements. Therefore, that wouldn't have been a good idea from the beginning.

This being both Matt and Edd in a general statement. Even if Edd was probably near death as regarded to have been, there was no guarantee Matt wouldn't have objected, nor cared for such a manner to have occurred. Not to mention the latter recent events, whereas Matt had already taken his first leave off to pursue his "big city dreams" or something along those lines in a whole other country. Whatever they were, he assumed Matt just wanted to become famous and rich with loads of hentai at his disposal.

This checked Matt off the book immediately, and with the rest, such as bothering to call up his family. Whilst that being the most moral thing to do so, with his father being dead, and the whereabouts of his mother and awkward relationship per se having yet to be shown. Since most words Edd had spoken about her weren't all too pleasant. He just let that be and did the one thing that was bugging his head to do. 

The male's foot tapping was both abrupt and fairly consistent, it is only an addition to the look of sweat glistening and stress on his face. 

"C'mon, Tord, pick the fuck up goddammit." Quietly mumbled the blue-hoodied male, his left-hand grasping on to the cellphone and waiting. All he's been doing since yesterday until now was waiting, and that growing frustration showed in his voice. 

 

It didn't also help the fact that he was confused enough to be out of his mind, of course he had been, having walked in after the middle of hell rising over and witnessing fresh cuts settled in the brunette's skin everywhere. And another friend not even around to spot it with him, practically disappearing off the scene, it was driving him livid and suspicious. The nonchalant beeping of the long-distance phone was beginning to make him cringe as each time it beeped it wasn't helping his lack of hope in this scenario, he sighed in abrupt annoyance and solemnly slammed the phone back on the hook. 

 

A voice that at first sounded inaudible, ricocheted from the distance and into the male's own ears. "Mr. Rosewood...?" 

 

With that being heard, a concerned expression of a nurse peered across the corner, spotting the blue-hoodied male going through his own silent breakdown as his head whipped over to face her. And suddenly his steady lacking of hope was slowly becoming revived. 

\---

After getting the okay from the doctors, and a burst of relief from the statement that the brunette was going to be alright, just a couple scarrings and cuts from the blade that attacked him last night. He was still gonna live, and at that point that's all that mattered in his head. 

It wasn't too long in that he peeked in through the word, spotting the usually depressed and suicidal brunette laid there vertical in the bed, head straightened and facing the ceiling as his eye's were still shut tight. Bandadges surrounding his upper limbs and abdomen as he glanced lower. Either he was unconscious or sleeping, or pretending to be in light of everything that happened to him had yet to be determined. He hoped it was the former.

"..Hey, Edd...?" His voice slightly rung out in the open air, focusing down on the male before him and it's own odd wavering quality as he observed him. Then his eye's slowly fluttered open, at least one of them, now directed straight at him.

"Hi....Mom." Edd speaks simply, a smile appearing for a second, then it faded.

The male was on the brink of death, and he was cracking a joke already on his arrival. He sighed softly and shook his head.

"I'm not 'Mom', it's Tom."

 

"...Hm."

 

"...What?" Tomas softly queried.

 

"....Tom the Mom actually rhymes, wow."

 

"Not funny." He replies simply, raising an eyebrow at Edd and crossing his arms for a moment, despite cracking a small smile as well.

 

The brief moment of redundancy sparked a chuckle from Edd, which ironically Tomas hasn't saw a lot of from him, in fact it was somewhat oddly unrecognizable. Perhaps it was the small branch of irony that had lurked under the surface, and that was the bringing of actual death upon him for the first time. Although it was just a batch of bloody scab wounds and scars, supposedly the scars that were left there were the ones not caused externally. Whatever that possibly had meant.

"So uh....How are you feeling..?" He mumbles out, and Tom is nearly appalled by the question itself.

"...You're in a hospital bed, your arms and ribcage are almost littered with scars, and you're asking how /I'm/ feeling..?"

 

"Well, it's not like I haven't been down this route before a long time ago."

 

"Dude, this is not like the bleach experience." 

 

The aforementioned event had already caused the 'void-eyed' male to cringe from the reminder of that once happening, which in some cases even got the brunette to cringe a bit by just thinking of how he went about attempting to do it. Both the boys sighed softly at the short flashback and resumed to their conversation. However throughout it all, Thomas had this gripping feeling whether to or not actually ask what had happened, judging by the wavering quality of Edd's expressions in and out of it all, he eventually went on and pressed about the manner.

 

Unfortunately, Tom had to figure external and internal scars thing out for himself after certain things began to settle, and become a whole lot more clear. Almost transparent in it's presence.


End file.
